


The Photograph Destruction Squad

by dragongirl251, SiobhanCven



Series: The Jock in the Photograph [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AND GAY, Highschool AU, Multi, The Lord Of The Rings Highschool Au, crack!fic, intense amount of sarcasm, the lord of the rings - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-16 13:39:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1349377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongirl251/pseuds/dragongirl251, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiobhanCven/pseuds/SiobhanCven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An immense responsibility is thrust upon Frodo Baggins, an incriminating photograph of Aragorn, known by the geeks as 'Strider' has been discovered and it's Frodo's job to destroy it. Geeks and jocks will band together in the Quest to restore harmony to Eriador High.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Elrond stood at the end of the crowded corridor, next to his office, his sharp features stony, his hand motioning towards the door. Isildur’s head was hung low on his chest, arms hung at his sides, limp. Whispers followed him up the hall, the absence of looks in his direction was unusual. Elrond’s face turned icy as his own sharp gaze met Isildur’s blank stare.  
He motioned to his office once again, and Isildur walked in in front of him and sat. Elrond remained standing and turned to Isildur, too close, toe to toe with the sitting pupil.  
“I understand that you have turned your friends in.” His stare sharp enough to cut diamond. Isildur broke the stare and looked down at his hands in his lap. The head boy badge on his chest gleamed in the fluorescent glare of Elrond’s office.  
A cough echoed through the room and Isildur looked up once again to see Elrond’s hand extended, palm up.  
Disbelief clouded Isildur’s face and his hand shot up to clutch the gleaming badge in his fist, “Elrond…” he broke off, unable to articulate what he felt, “You -- you _know_ I need this!” disbelief turned to indignance and he stood, now nose to nose with the counselor.  
“You’ve disappointed me.” The words were quiet in the still air. His arm was still extended.  
“I had to do it Elrond, I _had_ to. You just don’t get it do you, you don’t get what it’s like at this school. You’re not a student anymore Elrond. They tear you apart Elrond, don’t you remember?” His hands were now clenched in fists by his sides, his shoulders shaking.  
“I remember.”  
“Then you understand, you see that it’s okay! Right?” Anger turned to elation, which turned to panic as Elrond’s face stayed expressionless.  
“Give me the badge, Isildur.”  
“No.”  
…  
Ten minutes later, Elrond walked down the deserted halls, tossing the badge around in his hands. He reached the council room quickly and sat, listening to the bubble of conversation that surrounded him.  
Saruman stood, banging his walking stick on the ground, “As vice principal, I call this meeting to order. _Unfortunately_ , Sauron could not be here tonight due to…circumstances beyond his _control_. I will lead this meeting in his stead.” Saruman’s cold eyes scanned the room, daring defiance, “It has come to my attention that certain students,” at this, his eyes found Elrond’s, who looked away, “have been abusing the power so graciously bestowed upon them by this council. In light of recent events which I am sure you are aware of, I have been forced to make painful, drastic decisions regarding the continuance of the position known as ‘Head Boy’.” He paused, his eyes still fixed on Elrond, “My final decision is this: Isildur, son of Elendil will be the last Head Boy at Eriador High.” Whispers broke out throughout the room but were silenced by Saruman once again banging his cane against the floor, “I trust there will be no objections. This matter is closed, as is tonight’s meeting.” He swept the room with his gaze once more. “Meeting adjourned.”


	2. Bilbo's Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, hey, hey. updating every two weeks. we know Aragorn isn't Isildur's son. but for the purposes of this crack!fic. fuck that shit.

“My dad’s really awesome you know.” A football flew through the air past Aragorn’s face as he grinned, looking at Boromir for encouragement. Boromir raised his eyebrow and downed his protein shake in one, swallowing before replying.

“Your dad’s Isildur, son of Elendil right?”

“Yeah man, he was the last Head Boy.” At this, he lowered his voice and leaned closer to Boromir, “because you know, he was too good for anyone to like, you know… come after him.” Boromir sighed and stared with intensity at the table, not this again,

“I don’t know how to tell you this gently, but your dad screwed the school over real bad.”

“But he has a plaque!” His eyes lit up as he stood and grabbed Boromir’s arm, “here, I’ll show you, it’s in the trophy cabinet and everything.” Boromir grimaced and motioned to the others at his table to stay, letting Aragorn lead him into the hallway.

The enthusiastic quarterback practically skipped towards the glass trophy cabinet, gleefully pointing at the engraved plaque on the middle shelf, _Isildur, Son of Elendil, Head Boy: 1986_ it read. Boromir detached his wrist from Aragorn and leant against the glass, lowering his head into his hands. He sighed, “Why do you think he doesn’t come to the parent-teacher evenings, Aragorn?”

Aragorn’s grin didn’t lessen, “It’s ‘cause he’s too awesome!” He exclaimed loudly, turning to a boy passing by in the corridor and holding up his hand, “Am I right?” The boy, looking slightly petrified, returned the high-five before scuttling quickly down the corridor.

“No, Aragorn --”

Aragorn gave him a rather serious look, “Come on, man, you know I asked you to call me Strider.”

“Not happening.” Boromir informed him, ignoring the kicked puppy look that Aragorn projected in the next second, “Look man, your dad was the last head boy because...well you know, there was that scandal with a photograph and your dad turned a bunch of his friends --”

“No he didn’t,” He dismissed Boromir with a flick of his hair and walked down the corridor, to be quickly surrounded by a crowd of giggling girls. Boromir stood upright and turned to follow Aragorn down the hall,

“Absolutely hopeless,” he said under his breath, but was stopped in his tracks a second later by a thump on his back.

“Like your fashion sense.” He turned and grinned at his brother, Faramir who grinned in return and flicked his lime-green scarf over his shoulder.

“We’re wearing a uniform.” Boromir informed him in a monotone.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t accessorize.”

He rolled his eyes and shoved his brother, “Don’t you have a photography club meeting, Mr President?”

“Don’t you have a defenceless freshman to beat up, Captain?” he winked and shot Boromir a salute, swishing down the corridor leaving the smell of lime body spray in his wake.

…

“Why the _hell_ would you show that to me?” Frodo exclaimed, pushing away the photograph in horror and tripping in the process. He landed on the floor in a heap of lime-green and black, his blazer half off his shoulders and tangled between his arms. Bilbo held up his hands in surrender, the photograph waving between his fingers.

“I just wondered whether you knew these young men, Frodo.” Frodo picked himself up slowly, raising his eyebrows at his uncle.

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” Frodo pulled his blazer closer around his shoulders; he could almost _feel_ his innocence leaving him.

“The point is, Frodo,” he said, ignoring his nephew’s obvious distress, “do you know who they are? I have an...ahh… _problem_ , shall we say…” He smiled weakly at Frodo, who recoiled,

“Too right you’ve got a problem! Why do you even have that?” Bilbo grimaced and put the dishevelled piece of paper onto the table next to him.

“Look Frodo, it’s not like I took it on purpose or anything,” He sat, motioning for Frodo to do the same. Frodo didn’t move. “You remember after Winter break when they called me in to do the school photographs?” Frodo nodded reluctantly, crossing his arms. “Well I left the camera in a classroom while I was having lunch.” He shuffled his hands guiltily, staring fixedly at the mantlepiece behind Frodo, “and uh...well...it was probably those two, come to think of it...who knocked it...coming in and since the timer was switched on...they probably...you know... _turned_ it on.” Frodo looked at him dubiously as Bilbo innocently straightened the tablecloth.

“So uncle,” Frodo began, uncrossing his arms and sitting opposite Bilbo, “what exactly is your problem?” Bilbo grimaced,

“Well, you see I didn’t realise this photograph was on the camera until I uploaded it onto the school database.” He sighed, “seeing as I had only one-time access to it, I couldn’t go back and delete the photograph.” Frodo raised his eyebrows and motioned for him to continue, “Now Frodo, students aren’t supposed to know this,” he looked around suspiciously, seeing if anyone was listening, “really confidential and all, you know? But there’s going to be a slideshow which will contain the digital yearbook with all my photos from January. That includes this one Frodo, and it will be played in front of everyone at the end of prom.” He smiled tightly, “So Frodo, do you happen to, by any chance, know these boys?” There was a pause, and when Frodo finally broke the silence, it was with exasperation.

“You’ve got to be kidding me uncle, do you know who these two are?”

Bilbo shrugged, smiling sheepishly, “No Frodo, I’m just the photographer. That’s why I’m asking you.”

“You’re a photographer all right.” Frodo muttered under his breath. At this, Bilbo shot him a winning smile,

“Thanks a million Frodo, you always were my favourite nephew.” He stood, clapping Frodo on the shoulder and walking towards the kitchen.

Frodo sighed and leaned back against his chair, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. “Uncle, I’m your only nephew,” he called.

“That doesn’t stop you from being my favourite!” Came Bilbo’s voice from the kitchen, followed by the oven opening and the clanging of trays, “Now how about some chocolate-chip cookies.”

Frodo opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the banging of the screen door.

“Did someone say cookies?” Sam’s distinctively Welsh inflection drifted from the kitchen, “Sorry Mr Baggins. Hope I’m not interrupting anything, just heard that Frodo was visiting you for the afternoon and I was just making sure that he got his advanced calculus prac tests.” Frodo could almost _hear_ the compulsive grin.

“Of course you’re not interrupting anything m’boy, I was just asking young Frodo here about a problem I’ve been having --”

Frodo was in the kitchen before Bilbo could finish. “No. You are _not_ bringing him into this. No.” Frodo stepped closer to Bilbo, violating his personal space,

Bilbo smiled widely, shoving a mixing bowl into his hands, “Glad you came out here to help, Frodo. Wonderful.” He turned back to the oven before continuing, “Now anyway, about that problem --”

Frodo slammed the mixing bowl onto the countertop. “No! Are you even listening to me? No! You can’t tell him, no, you can’t tell _anyone_ about this.”

Bilbo waved him off, smiling absently and patting Sam on the shoulder, “What’s the harm? He’s a good boy. Aren’t you Sam?”

“Sure I am Mr Baggins,” he said, handing a wad of calculus to Frodo who immediately slammed it onto the counter next to the abandoned mixing bowl. Before Frodo could stop him, Bilbo was out of the room and back, clutching the wrinkled piece of paper between his fingers,

“Now what do you make of this?”

Sam was suddenly glad he’d freed himself of the calculus homework, “Blimey Mr Baggins, where’d you come across this?”

Frodo stood, fuming.

“Well you see Sam, that’s part of my problem.” He winked, “And you could be part of the solution.”

Frodo sank lower against the counter as Bilbo proceeded to explain the situation, it was too late now.

Sam was grinning like a lunatic by the end of it, “Core, Frodo! Wait ‘til Merry and Pippin hear about this, they’ll have kittens.”

Frodo stood and stepped between the two of them, “I don’t think you understand, these people aren’t _like_ us. I know who these people are, Sam knows who these people are, _everyone_ knows who these people are. This picture? It can’t exist.”

Bilbo patted Frodo’s shoulder gravely, “But it does, m’boy, and that’s where you come in.”

Frodo sighed, “What do you want me to do? What could I possibly do to fix…” he gestured vaguely at the photograph now held in Sam’s hands, “ _this_.”

Bilbo grinned, “Well I was thinking, Frodo,” Frodo sighed, “seeing as you’ve been top of the class in IT for basically your whole life, you could just you know...do a little, what are the kids calling it these days?” He winked at Sam, “Hackin.’”

“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”

Internally, Frodo groaned, now on top of school, homework and his non-existent social life, he had to do this. He was resigned himself to the fact that he was never going to get a date for the prom.

…

They hurried back to school, blending in with the crowds of people spilling into the hallways from their last class of the day.They headed towards Rivendell house administration, the grainy photograph safe in the inside pocket of Frodo’s school blazer.

Sam reached out and knocked on the door cheerfully, “Mr Gandalf,” he called, “we have a little problem.”

A tall skinny man opened the door and ushered them inside with his staff, meeting Sam’s smile with his own twinkling grey eyes, “What can I do for you today, boys?” he asked, “Oh and Frodo, congratulations on that engineering award!”

Frodo smiled tightly, “Yes, thanks Mr Gandalf, we were just uh…” he pulled the photograph out of his pocket and handing it to the teacher, “wondering about...this. It’s on uh...the database.”

Gandalf nodded gravely, “Another one of Bilbo accidents, I assume.”

“Something like that.”

“Well I’m afraid we’ll have to call a meeting. Be in the Rivendell common room in ten minutes will you? We’ll figure out what to do then.”

…

Frodo and Sam had been waiting awkwardly in the common room for half an hour in the presence of the school counselor and Boromir, the captain of the football team, who had begun to pace when the door finally opened and Gandalf walked in, ushering Aragorn in front of him. Gandalf sighed, “It took me _ten_ minutes to find him and _twenty_ minutes to stop him bouncing a ball off the top of his foot.” Aragorn grinned, “Said he was nearing his... _record_.” Aragorn’s grin widened as he gave Boromir a thumbs up.

Elrond stood and squared off to Aragorn, photograph in hand, “Don’t happen to know anything about this, young man?”

Aragorn stopped grinning. He blushed, the red darkening his cheeks, “I...uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck nervously, “Well that was…”

“You don’t have to explain.”

Aragorn looked immensely relieved, “Thanks? But uh...so why did you call me here? I was you know... _nearing my record_.” He winked conspiratorially at Gandalf, who pursed his lips,

“The thing, son of Isildur,” Gandalf began, “Is that this picture is now on the database, ready to be shown to the whole school on the night of prom. Only principal Sauron has access to it.”

Aragorn looked confused, “Does that mean everyone will see it?”

Everyone stared at Aragorn for a second before Sam spoke politely, “Yes Aragorn --”

But the jock cut him off with a grimace, “That’s Strider to you, nerd.”

“Okay... _Strider_ ,” Frodo cut in as Sam’s face fell, “yes, everyone’s going to see them. _Everyone_. That includes Arwen, you know, your girlfriend.”

“How do you know so much about me, pipsqueak?” Aragorn took a step closer to Frodo, who held his ground,

“I don’t know, maybe because I have more than half a brain,” he held eye contact with the jock, who narrowed his eyes, “a gift which not _all_ of us seem to posses.”

Boromir stepped between them, holding up a hand to stop Aragorn, “Easy tiger,” he looked down at Frodo, slight contempt lingering behind his handsome face, “Don’t get too riled up now, let’s just focus on the problem at hand.”

Elrond spoke, “There two people...uh... _present_ in this photograph. I feel as if we should summon the other.”

Aragorn batted Boromir’s hand away, obviously horrified, “Legolas? Sir, do you _know_ him?” he looked around the room, “We’re... _close_ ….I guess and he’s not gunna take this with the grace and poise,” Gandalf groaned as Aragorn shot him a grin, “that I’ve...er...shown? Yeah. Shown.”

Elrond rolled his eyes and moved towards the door, “I’ll find him then, shall I?”

…

Elrond walked back towards the common room fifteen minutes later, the target in tow with unwanted company.

As he opened the door, Aragorn’s tenor drifted towards his ears.

“And I passed, right? And then he passed it back to me, didn’t you Boromir?”

“Yes Aragorn.” The answer came in a monotone accompanied by a sigh of derision,

“And I thought I might not make it,” a pause, “actually I knew I could...but yeah, there were like, five of them, but I still scored! Right Boromir?”

“Yes, Aragorn.”

“Dude, I told you call me Strider in public.”

Elrond sighed and walked into the room.

…

Elrond Undomiel, Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli son of Gloin entered the room.

Aragorn stopped miming throwing a football as his eyes met Legolas’. He smiled sheepishly and blushed. Legolas scowled.

“I have explained to the situation to Mr Greenleaf and though he is not pleased,” Elrond informed the room, “he has agreed to attend with his...uh…well _that_ one.” he gestured towards Gimli who immediately opened his mouth only to be silenced by Legolas’ hand,

“With all due respect, _Mr Undomiel_ ,” he spat, “I would be much obliged if you didn’t refer to my friends as inanimate objects. It is an insult to everyone involved.” While he was speaking, his ice blue eyes stayed fixed on Aragorn’s dark ones.

The two boys stared at each other for a long time before Aragorn raised his hand in a small, cheerful wave. Legolas stared in disgust and Boromir grimaced, grabbing Aragorn’s wrist and shoving his hand to his side. He gave Legolas a sympathetic smile, which the taller boy didn’t return.

“It must be destroyed, Mr Undomiel.” Legolas nodded towards the counselor, “I trust you will see to it?”

Gandalf stepped forward, “Actually, Mr Greenleaf, we have young Mr Baggins and Mr Gamgee working on the problem.”

Legolas spun, rounding on the sophomores sitting in the corner, “What?”

Sam offered him a smile, “It’s not as though there’s anything bad in it Mr...ugh...Legol -- ahhh….Mr Greenleaf?”

Legolas strode across to them in two steps, grabbing Sam by the lapels of his blazer and shoving him against the wall of the common room, “What was that, Gamgee? What was that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” Sam was sounding increasingly anxious as he stared around the room for support, he received none, “It’s -- I respect your lifestyle choices, Mr Greenleaf!”

Legolas took his hands off Sam, who slid to the ground and groaned, “To what exact _lifestyle_ do you refer?”

“Well uh...I just mean to say that I don’t mind -- and no one else does -- that you’re g --”

“Sam. No.” Frodo shook his head fractionally and the whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, except Aragorn, who winked at Legolas. Legolas shot him a scathing look. He turned away from Sam and addressed Elrond.

“Fix it.” He strode from the room, Gimli trailing behind him.

Aragorn laughed and pulled a lime green tennis ball from his pocket, “What did I tell you about this guy? Not much grace and poise there, am I right?”

The room was silent save for a squeak that came from the cupboard near the corner. It didn’t stop Aragorn.

“Actually though, he has plenty of grace and poise really,” Gandalf walked suspiciously towards the cupboard, “and all that anger, to tell you truth it’s kind of hot when you --” he was interrupted by Gandalf opening the door, two small bundles rolled from the cupboard. Boromir gave Aragorn a scathing look.

“Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. I might have known.”

The two sophomores stood, grinning sheepishly up at their teacher.

“Well,” Elrond drawled from the other side of the room, “this complicates things.”

“You must leave now, with a pending detention, and tell no one what you saw here.” Gandalf’s words were harsh and his eyes were cold.

Pippin grinned, “Show it to us and we just might.” He elbowed Merry and winked.

Gandalf sighed, “Depart.”

“Look Mr Gandalf,” Merry began in a business like manner, “what if we let something slip, yeah? What if we just leave and let something slip? I feel like we need a guarantee, you let us in your little uh...squad, and we won’t say a word. We can help, Mr Gandalf, trust me. But if you don’t show us and don’t let us in, well...who’s to say what will happen?” he spread his arms wide, eyes shining,

Gandalf narrowed his eyes, “Is that a threat, Mr Brandybuck?”

“I dunno! Is it a threat, Mr Took?” he grinned at Pippin,

“Well Mr Brandybuck, some would say it is a threat.”

Gandalf was about to retaliate when Aragorn piped up, “I dunno Mr Gandalf, I like these two nerds!”

“Thank you, Mr Strider!” Pippin bowed,

Aragorn beamed, “I _really_ like these two nerds, whaddaya say we let them in.”

“Well if _you_ say so, Aragorn.” Gandalf scowled.

Elrond nodded briskly and moved towards the door for the second time, “I will let Mr Greenleaf know what is going on,” he looked around the room, “you’ll all be hearing from me _very_ soon.”


	3. Saruman's Satisfaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hay. this chapter was fun, and whoo, a bit longer. this was very fun to write as usual. happy easter and long hrets tlef to you all.

“Frodo, you didn’t eat anything at dinner? Is there an exam coming up? I’m sure you’ll do really well. You always do.” Sam smiled and cuffed Frodo’s shoulder.

Frodo stared at Sam incredulously and waited seconds before replying, “Were you there? Did you even listen?

Sam backed away, looking hurt, “Of course I was there Frodo, it’s not a big deal. Just a few jocks fooling around is all.” He shrugged.

Frodo looked out across the quadrangle towards the darkening sky. He quickened his steps, scanning the gravel around him, “It’s not just that Sam,” he lowered his voice, “what happens when this is all over? What happens when they’re finished with us? When have they ever talked to us before, Sam? Do you really think they’ll talk to us after? Even be civil with us? No Sam, they won’t.”As he spoke, Frodo’s words gained volume and intensity until he was all but shouting at his smaller friend.

“But Mr Gandalf seems to trust them?” Sam began tentatively, “And hey, they’re not all bad. Take that Legolas for example, he seems like a nice guy…” He trailed off when the sound of Frodo’s footsteps stopped. He turned slowly, grimacing.

“Are you stupid?” Sam’s face fell but Frodo continued, “Have you forgotten what happened before dinner? It was literally two hours ago. Legolas? Nice guy? Yeah sure, not like it was him holding you up against a wall. Really nice guy Samwise, really, really nice guy.” He glared at Sam for a second before quickening his pace and turning back towards Rivendell house, leaving Sam staring after him into the darkness.

…

Frodo sat in his dorm on the bottom bunk, knees tucked up into his chest, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. His nails were bitten back and jagged, clutching the duvet to his chin. The photograph was on the dresser beside his bed and Frodo took care not to look in its direction, instead staring resolutely at the planks above his head.

A knock sounded at the door and Sam crept in tentatively, preparing for bed in silence and avoiding Frodo’s gaze as he pulled on his pajamas.

It wasn’t until he was in the top bunk that Frodo spoke, “I’m sorry Sam, but I just don’t trust them. They’re just not the kind of people we usually hang out with. Do you know what I mean Sam?” He pulled his duvet up even higher so it reached his ears.

“I get it Frodo, I do and I feel the same? But that doesn’t mean we should judge them before we even know them. Don’t you think that’s what they’re doing to us. They’re probably talking about us right this minute, so how about we stop talking about them. Goodnight Frodo. Try and get some sleep, okay? We’ve got a big day tomorrow.” The rustling of Frodo’s sheets was Sam’s answer.

…

“You know what I love?” Aragorn proclaimed loudly to the sleeping dorm. Boromir’s muffled voice came from across the room in a monotone,

“What, Aragorn?”

“Lime flavoured chips!” He exclaimed, and was answered by a chorus of groans. “Don’t y’all love lime flavoured chips?” Aragorn’s gleaming smile could be seen by everyone.

“Yes Aragorn.” came Boromir’s voice as he burrowed deeper into his covers, hoping to obscure Aragorn’s incessant babbling.

“Shut up numbskull, we’re trying to sleep,” muttered someone from the other side of the dorm.

“That’s Strider to you,” Aragorn pointed out cheerfully.

“Sure it is,” was the mumbled reply.

…

Merry and Pippin stood in the gardens, a bag of flour clutched gleefully in each of their hands, “Man Merry, we’re really going to fuck shit up!” Pippin grinned, up-ending the bags of flour into the duck pond.

…

“I don’t know Gimli,” Legolas stretched out elegantly on his newly claimed couch, smoothing his lime green, silk pajamas as he watched the freshmen who’d been sitting there before him move away. The satisfied smile however, soon slipped off his face, “I think I’m still in love with him.”

Gimli stared at the wall. “With who?”

“Oh Gimli, whenever I look into his eyes...” he looked up at the ceiling clutching a lilac cushion tightly to his chest, “those eyes Gimli, it’s like looking into a chocolate-brown abyss of sex appeal.”

“I’m sure it is, Legolas.” Gimli fiddled with the arm of the straight-backed chair he was left with, still resolutely staring at the wall.

Legolas stretched across the couch before standing. He flicked his hand dismissively, “I really handed it to them today, it’s going to be horrible, having to put up with them. But it’s what I have to do. I’ll bear it. I always bear it.” He sighed dramatically before looking back over his shoulder at Gimli, “Anyway, off to bed. Sleep well, Gimli.”

Gimli stayed sitting in the straight-backed chair for a long time after Legolas had left.

…

The cafeteria at lunch was abuzz with activity. Merry and Pippin, trailing behind Sam and Frodo groaned at the line leading to the food.  “Man, why does general maths have to be in a different block.” Pippin groaned, “and it’s _always_ before lunch.”

Merry nudged Pippin, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, “Hey look, our new friend Aragor- I mean, _Strider_ ,” He winked, “is up front. Fancy hoppin’ the line to stand with him?”

Frodo stared at Merry, horrified, “No way, Sam and I,” Sam looked mildly dejected at the thought of waiting for his food, “are staying right here.”

“Your loss!” Sang Pippin as he grabbed Merry’s arm and together they skipped towards Aragorn.

…

“And this time, make it a fat-free dressing. Last time I could _taste_ the weight going to my hips.” Arwen Undomiel flipped her hair over her shoulder and stared the lunch lady down for a good ten seconds before turning to Aragorn, “Sweetie, last time they ran out of salad and I just _couldn’t_ eat anything else, so I didn’t eat anything and I almost passed out at cheer practice. You know what this is Aragorn? They’re _making_  me anorexic. Society is making me anorexic.” She flipped her hair again and moved towards the dressing.

“I know what you’re talking about babe,” Aragorn nodded as he piled more ‘tater tots onto the already wobbling mound on his plate, drawing horrified glances from the canteen staff. Boromir gave them an apologetic look as he shooed the couple down the lunch line.

Aragorn, now at the drink station was regaling them once more about his big pass at the last game when Merry and Pippin came up either side of him, slapping him fondly on the back.

“Hey Mr Strider,” they grinned in unison.

Aragorn grinned right back, “Hey Arwen, these are my friends, Nerd 1 and Nerd 2!” he looked down at them with brotherly admiration as Arwen turned up her nose,

“They look like short, homeless men, I don’t want to be seen around them, sweetie,” she moved toward a group of girls, all in cheerleading uniforms the same as hers, “I’ll see you after school sweetie, ex oh ex oh.” she blew a kiss and swung away, skirt riding high on her thin hips.

Aragorn grinned at the smiling sophomores, “I’ll be lookin’ forward to that, aye boys,” he winked, “can I get a hell yeah?”

“Hell yeah!” Merry and Pippin pumped the air enthusiastically as Boromir sighed,

“Hell yeah,” he pushed the three of them forward, “we’re holding up the line.”

“So _Strider_ ,” Pippin began, nudging Aragorn, “wanna buy us some chips?”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the four of them spun around to see Gandalf, looming above them,

“But they’re my friends!” Aragorn turned away and looked at the selection of chips, “now what flavour do you little nerds want?”

Merry and Pippin glanced at each other before replying in unison, “Lime flavoured.”

Aragorn’s grin split his face as he slapped both boys on the back hard enough to send them stumbling, “That’s my boys! Now grab what you want.”

Pippin sent smirk in Gandalf’s direction before grabbing four bags of chips.

“Fool of a Took…” Gandalf muttered as he glared disparagingly at the threesome, he addressed Boromir, “Elrond is coming to talk to you all about our... _situation_ , I trust you won’t embarrass yourselves in front of him.” He sighed and glared pointedly at the other three, who were giggling and stuffing bags of chips into their blazer pockets.

Boromir gave Gandalf a sympathetic grimace, “I’ll do my best sir.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Gandalf muttered as he walked towards the ‘tater tots.

…

The Rivendell common room after dinner was deserted except for the ten people.

Merry, Pippin and Aragorn were sat on the midnight blue rug, eating the lime flavoured chips they had purchased at the canteen, their loud munching the only noise in the room.

Legolas and Gimli stood against the far wall, Legolas staring haughtily at the back of Aragorn’s head, taking any excuse to look at him.

Boromir, Frodo and Sam occupied the couch, Boromir sitting as far away from the other two as possible, head in his hands.

Gandalf leaned against the door, his staff propped against the frame as Elrond paced the room.

“Now,” Elrond began, “we need to do this _intelligently_ ,” he glared pointedly at an oblivious Aragorn, “there will be planning. We do not need vice principal Saruman’s attention drawn to our activities. He doesn’t take kindly to anyone, _especially_ your family, Aragorn, let alone two boys in...such a _position_ as this.” he gestured vaguely at the photograph,

“Quite a position wasn’t it...aye Legolas?” he winked and Legolas flipped his hair, looking away, “Anyway, what’re you sayin’ about my dad, he was _awesome_!”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Elrond stated dryly,

“And I’m just as awesome, am I right?”

“That remains to be seen.” Elrond cut off any response, “So as I was saying, we must go about this with finesse and... _poise_ \--”

“I know!” Aragorn stood as if rallying the masses, “We need a name! Like a team --” he cut himself off, “No! A squad!” he grinned around the room, “We’re destroying something, right,” he winked at Legolas, who put his face in his hands, “a photograph, yeah?” he paused, gathering himself, standing straighter, “I have a name, okay, _okay_. You ready for this?” silence, “The Photograph Destruction Squad...am I right?” he put his hand in the air and Merry and Pippin both jumped to reach it.

Elrond shuddered, “Ridiculous names notwithstanding, I will now leave you in the capable hands of Mr Baggins.” All eyes turned to Frodo as he sunk lower in the couch, “I’ll be seeing all of you very soon.” he swept from the room, almost knocking over Gandalf in the process.

“Well nerd --” Aragorn was cut off by Frodo, who stood,

“Frodo, please.”

“What’s your plan, nerd?” Frodo was about to retort when Boromir shook his head,

“Don’t even try, he doesn’t understand.”

Frodo stared incredulously at Boromir, who shrugged, “It’s almost curfew,” Frodo began, “and like Elrond said, we don’t want the vice principal on our case, so I suggest we go into someone’s dorm. I would offer mine and Sam’s but we have dorm mates and they won’t let,” he stared at Boromir and Aragorn, “ _you_ lot in.”

“I’m sure they’re my friends!” Aragorn butted in, as Frodo shook his head,

“Trust me Aragorn, they’re not.”

“It’s Strid --”

Legolas cut in, stepping forward from the corner, “Shall I suggest my _private_ dorm. Normally I wouldn’t let any of you people --”

“I’ve been in it,” Aragorn interrupted, winking, “haven’t I Legolas?”

Legolas continued, hardly suppressing a shudder, “But since it’s for such a, shall we say, _necessary_ cause, I suppose I could allow it.”

“Now that’s teamwork -- no! Squadwork!” silence greeted his enthusiasm.

“Thanks Mr Greenleaf,” Frodo broke the silence, “shall we?”

…

Boromir and Aragorn, seeing as their skills were not necessary, were positioned to stand guard. Merry and Pippin, both trying to be the most useless hindrance possible, sat in the corner of the room where they’d been shooed by Legolas who had pushed them off the bed claiming they would soil his lilac sheets.

Frodo and Sam sat at the only desk in the room, mahogany and high, the desk didn’t even allow their feet to to reach the ground. They sat in front of Frodo’s laptop, the glow of the screen the only light in the room, so as to not alert the hall monitors to their activities past curfew. Gimli stood behind them, giving them helpful input as to how to access the database.

Legolas was sitting on his bed in silk pajamas, his knees pulled up to his chest, running his fingers through his hair.

“I reckon you should click that blue thing,” Gimli offered, reaching for the mouse as Frodo slapped his hand away,

“No.”

“Great suggestion though Gimli,” Sam smiled up at the junior who nodded confidently,

“No it wasn’t,” muttered Frodo, his fingers flying over the keys.

A loud sigh was heard from the bed and they looked over to see Legolas sprawled across it dramatically, “I can just imagine him out in the corridor with another man. There’s a touch, it’s new, it’s exciting, there’s electricity...and before you know it they’re -- oh! I just can’t bare to think of it!” He threw his head back against the bed and sighed again,

“He’s got a girlfriend.” Frodo muttered into the laptop, not stopping his typing,

“It never mattered before, did it!” Legolas sat on edge of the bed, his teeth worrying his lower lip,

“Not to mention that Boromir is the straightest guy I’ve ever seen…” Frodo continued,

“So was I,” sighed Legolas, “still am, if I’m perfectly honest.”

Frodo peered around at the colour scheme and mountains of plush cushions littering Legolas’ bed, “Oh I’m under no illusions about that…”

“You see! Anything could happen!” he declared with a doleful expression in Frodo’s direction,

Frodo rolled his eyes, his fingers still tapping even as he looked away from the screen, “Well maybe,” he began with mock interest, “you could go out there and check!”

Merry and Pippin, suddenly interested, grinned up at Legolas who heaved another dramaticsigh and fell back against the cushions, “Oh I wouldn’t want to interrupt anything…” Frodo thought he heard a genuine wobble in his voice, but didn’t have time to think on it before Merry piped,

“Well Mr Greenleaf,” he began, eyes large and innocent, “if you don’t want to go out there I’m sure _we_ could attempt to kill the mood, we’re great at that!”

Legolas, all stiff composure once more, raised an elegant eyebrow, “I’m sure you are. Run along then, make sure you don’t trip over his ego on the way, it’s quite... _expansive_.”

Pippin shot Legolas a quick salute, “We’ll keep that in mind.” he grinned as he rushed from the room, dragging Merry with him.

…

Saruman sat in his office, painstakingly monitoring the internet use, three gigabytes over and it was only halfway through the month. Principal Sauron would be very upset. He sighed as he scrolled down Middle Earth Stationery Suppliers’ budget range. Everything was lime green, _everything_.

A flashing message popped suddenly into his vision.

_Unauthorised Outside Source accessing Data Base_

Saruman smiled, finally, he could apprehend someone, his fingers were itching already to write up that detention...maybe even a court case...that would get the school money. He clicked on the message for location.

His smile broadened as he stood.

“Rivendell dormitories...here I come.”

…

Merry and Pippin were shouting. It wasn’t angry shouting or upset shouting, in fact, it was gleeful shouting. Aragorn’s tenor joined the fray and Frodo could hear Boromir quietly persuading them all them all to shut the hell up.

He sighed.

“Gimli, make yourself useful for once and go shut them up. All I need is twenty more minutes.” Gimli scowled and didn’t move, looking at Legolas for confirmation.

“Go on, Gimli,” Legolas’ voice was strained, “we don’t want to get caught.”

“It’ll be alright…” Gimli offered and Legolas shook his head,

“Go stop the ruffians for me.”

Gimli walked slowly from the room, shooting a glare at Frodo on his way out.

“That wasn’t very nice, Frodo…” Sam began, “and you’re typing the wrong code...sorry.”

Frodo glared, but deleted the strip of code before starting afresh.

Gimli barged back through the door, holding Merry and Pippin by the collars of their shirts, “Where do you want them?”

“In the corner.” Frodo instructed.

Gimli didn’t move.

“Yes, in the corner will be fine, Gimli.” Legolas smiled, and Gimli placed the two troublemakers into the corner specified.

There was silence in the room for whole minutes as Frodo typed away next to Sam and Legolas sat rigid on his bed.

Legolas began to fiddle with tassels on his cushions, long fingers tensing around the fabric. Gimli sat down next to him, reaching out his hand as if to touch him, but pulling it back at the last moment.

“You alright, Legolas?” he asked gruffly.

Legolas sighed, this time genuinely and rested his head on Gimli’s shoulder. A blush spread across the shorter boy’s face and he stared straight ahead, not daring to move, for fear that Legolas would move his head away.

“It’s like what we were talking about last night. I only had to see him on the field before...and now...it’s an everyday thing. I have to _talk_ to him Gimli, interact with him…” he trailed off, burying his head in Gimli’s shoulder.

Merry and Pippin bounced onto the bed, Pippin leaning in close to Legolas’ ear, “Bet interacting wasn’t all you did back then,” he nudged Merry, who nodded in agreement.

Legolas’ head snapped ‘round, eyes narrowed, his face filled with rage, “Shut the fuck up.” the words were quiet in the still air and it could’ve become very awkward if the door hadn’t opened at that moment and Saruman hadn’t walked in.

“So I heard there was an unidentified, unauthorised computer working from this room to hack into the database,” he smiled around the room, eyes cold, “that couldn’t have been you now, could it?”

Frodo slammed the laptop closed and pushed it off the desk, Sam caught it, horrified, “No.” Frodo stated,

Aragorn, coming in behind Saruman with Boromir, shot them an apologetic look, “I tried to warn you!”

Boromir elbowed him, “No you didn’t. You saw a spider on the wall and got excited.”

The door opened again and Gandalf walked, the picture of calm, “Sorry about the little...uh... _party_ , Mr Saruman, it’s Aragorn’s...birthday and they assured me they would be quiet…”

Saruman turned his cold eyes to Gandalf, “It’s not his birthday.”

Aragorn grinned, “It’s always my birthday, sir.” he winked at the vice principal, who raised a disgusted eyebrow,

“I’m sure it is.” he turned his attention once more to Gandalf, “Since this is all your fault, I have a...suggestion for you.” he smiled coldly at the other teacher,

Pippin stood and sauntered up to Saruman, a bag of lime flavoured chips clutched in his hand, “Want a chip, sir?” he asked, his face the picture of childish innocence,

Saruman huffed in irritation and reached into the packet and selected a large chip.

“So Gandalf,” he continued, “I’ve heard you’re up for promotion are you?”

Gandalf met Saruman’s stare with a chilling one of his own, “I might be.”

“Well, it so happens that the vice principal -- who happens to be me -- is in charge of all promotion nominations…” Saruman still clutched the chip in his hand, “and you’ve worked so long, Gandalf, so hard...I think you need some... _down time_.”

“Whatever do you mean by that?” the two teachers were only a foot apart now, so close that they were almost touching.

“I mean,” began Saruman, biting into the chip held between his fingers, “that you need to go on --” he gave a little cough, and his hand came up to his throat, “you need to go on long --” he coughed again, “you need to go on long hrets tlef!” he spluttered, coughing violently, almost doubling over with the effort.

Pippin, still by Saruman’s side, quickly patted him on the back with mock concern. Saruman shook him off, glaring.

Gandalf smirked down at Saruman, raising an eyebrow at the vice principal, “What were you saying?”

Saruman straightened and glared, “I was saying, _Gandalf_ , that you really need a _break_. How about you go on...long service leave.”

Silence settled over the room as the two men stared each other down. Finally Gandalf spoke.

“I don’t feel tired, Saruman, I don’t need leave.”

“I’m sure you’re very tired,” the vice principal smirked, “and even with if you weren’t…you _deserve_ this, Gandalf. Let’s put it this way…” he lowered his voice and stepped closer still, “If you don’t take my _generous offer_ , I’m afraid I will have to…uh… _punish_ , these young gentlemen here and report you _and_ them to principal Sauron.” Gandalf stiffened, “You know how he is about disturbances, Gandalf, they cost him time, and his time costs money. You know how he is about money.” Gandalf opened his mouth to retort, but Saruman held up a hand to stop him, “Look here Gandalf, either you leave or I report you, _all_ of you.”

Gandalf gritted his teeth, “For how long?”

“That remains to be seen.” Saruman sneered as he swept from the room, “You leave in the morning.”


	4. Galadriel's Wishes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavy so hold onto your chocolates we had trouble writing it because we felt so mean. But no seriously, BiboraRoza was so sad she took her clothes off and I don't think that's ever happened before. It was disturbing.

Silence descended suddenly over the usually raucous cafeteria of Eriador High. Recess had been in progress and the sounds of munching and chatter had filled the air before all eyes turned towards vice principal Saruman’s imposing and impending form. His eyes swept the room coldly before settling on the table at which Frodo Baggins sat. He smirked then, and moved towards the table with purpose. Conversation bubbled from the tables furthest away from him, speculations as to why the vice principal was there, and what exactly he wanted with the nerd table.

“Probably getting a smartness award.” Nodded a blonde cheerleader knowingly, looking towards Arwen for approval. Arwen gave none, instead lobbied her own theory,

“I think the short homeless man’s in trouble,” she leaned closer, drawing her audience in, “I always thought he was really suspicious, like the way he’s really smart and stuff, you know?” she nodded knowingly and looked around the table, raising her eyebrows as if daring anyone to disagree. “Like normal people, they’re not smart. They’re not normal.” A chorus of nods and small cheers erupted from around the table.

“I really hope Frodo’s in trouble,” Pippin grinned good-naturedly at his ragtag table full of trouble makers. Merry butted in,

“Or Sam! That’d be a change.”

“A really pleasant one too, Merry. You know, detentions are all fun and games until they make you miss lunch. That’s when they really grate me to be honest.” The table nodded in sympathetic agreement before turning keenly back towards the action.

Saruman had finally reached the nerd table and the room grew quiet, ready to listen to his every word.

A loud voice suddenly broke through the tense silence and all eyes turned to Aragorn, “So did I tell you about that pass I made the other week?” A groan rippled through the entire room and Boromir smiled apologetically while slapping Aragorn inconspicuously ‘round the back of his head. Saruman, looking mildly irritated, glared at the two boys before rounding on Frodo, who didn’t meet his gaze.

He smiled at Frodo and began to speak, “A little chat in my office after recess if you don’t mind Mr Baggins.” His voice was low and sweet, but the entire room heard his words. He smirked at Frodo before turning and swishing out of the silent cafeteria. As soon as he was out of sight, the room exploded with conversation.   

Two jocks from Aragorn’s table sauntered up to Frodo, pulling a chair out on either side of him and sitting down, grinning, “Always knew creepy old Saruman had his favourites.” One of them said, helping himself to Frodo’s sandwich and biting into it with relish, “This is good,” he informed his friend before continuing, “Looks like you’re off his list, haven’t sucked up enough this month?” He licked his lips and elbowed Frodo, who continued to look down at his slowly dwindling plate of food.

“You have no right to say that about him!” Frodo cringed, Sam’s Welsh lilt was particularly strong when he was agitated.

“Stay out of it fatass.” The bulkier of the two smirked at Sam, looking him over before grabbing his milk and downing it in one.

Sam seemed to recede into himself, looking down self-consciously at his stomach before clenching his soft fists by his sides. Frodo winced and clutched his lime-green cutlery.

Across the room, Aragorn stood, his face for once, serious. Boromir noticed the movement almost too late and grabbed his friend’s arm. With a slight shake of his head, he pulled Aragorn back into his seat. Aragorn glared at the table, furious, “They’re fucking with my nerds, only I can fuck with my nerds,” he muttered, almost unintelligibly. Boromir nudged Aragorn’s shoulder with his own, “It’s not worth it,” he whispered. Looking away from Aragorn, his eyes caught Frodo’s from across the room. Frodo’s lips were drawn tight, his eyes flat. Disappointment was evident across his features but worse, was the quiet acceptance that Boromir had done exactly as expected.

…

Frodo walked dejectedly towards vice principal Saruman’s office. He was missing algebra. Saruman sat, scrolling on his computer and didn’t look up when Frodo knocked. He shuffled around on his desk, eyes still locked on the screen, finally extending his arm towards Frodo, a lime green detention slip held primly between his fingers. Frodo’s heart beat faster as he moved towards Saruman to take the slip. He knew what this meant, and sure enough:

_Lunchtime Detention_

_PDHPE Room 6_

_Authorised by V.P. Saruman_

Saruman hadn’t even bothered to sign it. Frodo waited for a second, wondering whether the vice principal actually had something to say to him.

Evidently not.

He left.

…

Frodo walked towards PDHPE room 6 with growing dread, sandwich clutched in his sweaty fingers. He’d missed far too much algebra, ten minutes at least.

Everyone knew about detention in room 6, everyone knew who it was with. Seeing as Frodo didn’t take PDHPE, he didn’t know what her name was, only knew that she was referred to as The Witch King and that she was incredibly sexist.

Frodo stood outside room 6 for a good minute before even touching the door. He’d never seen her before, couldn’t really recall anyone who had…not that that mattered really, he’d never had a detention before. He had no idea what to expect.

Mustering the little courage he had, he walked in, mumbling quadratic formula under his breath. It had never failed him before, it sure as hell failed him now.

…

Sam was worried. He had been worried for roughly four hours, if not more. After recess Frodo hadn’t said much. Sam didn’t know if it was to do with the jocks, or the detention, or both, but it sure was something.

He sighed, remembering the lime green detention slip. PDHPE room 6. No one came back the same from room 6. He had to get Frodo out of there.

Now who could do that? Who had the power, the influence, the guts?

Aragorn’s smiling face was all of a sudden thrust into his. For once, the smile seemed forced.

“You okay, nerd…uh…I mean…uhm…”

“Sam?” Sam supplied,

“Sam!” he grinned and patted Sam fondly on the head,

“Well…” began Sam, “I was just a little worried about Frodo.”

Aragorn’s face darkened, “Sorry.”

“Hmm?” Sam was confused,

“Nothing…” muttered the jock,

Sam shrugged, “I was just…well he’s got detention and it’s in well…room 6?”

“What did he do to get that?”

Sam’s smile was tight, “Well it was because he was helping you…”

Aragorn’s face dropped, “Oh.” After a second his face brightened, “I’ll get him out of it!”

“Uhm…” Sam began, “I wouldn’t do it yourself, I’ve been getting some distrustful looks from teachers --”

“I get them all the time!” Aragorn grinned dismissively,

“No...I don’t…and if Frodo’s got detention, they have to suspect. If you want this thing over with, you’ll make it a lot easier on yourself if you don’t draw attention to uh…the squad.”

Aragorn seemed to think for a moment, his face strained. After what seemed like  a few minutes he shot Sam a reassuring smile and pulled out his phone, “Don’t you worry…uh…Sam, leave this to me. Now go do what you do best in your little nerd class.” He walked away, still tapping at his phone, and was immediately surrounded by a group of girls.

“It’s lunch time…” Sam muttered after him, “but okay.”

…

Arwen’s phone rang in the middle of lunch time cheer practice. She rolled her eyes at it and held up her hand. All activity around her ceased and she gave them all a simpering smile, “Sweeties,” she began, “I’ve got a call, okay? It’s from Aragorn, okay?” a chorus of oohs and aahs broke out around her and she nodded knowingly, “Keep practising while I’m gone sweeties, you’re going to need it if we’re going to be asked to cheer at the big game. And we will be.” There was silence for a moment before Arwen giggled and flicked her hair over her shoulder, “Later sweeties.” She threw back as she walked towards the lockers.

The phone had ceased to ring so she picked it up and called Aragorn back, running her fingers through her dark ponytail as she hit the buttons. Aragorn picked up almost immediately.

“Hey babe.”

“Hey sweetie.”

There was silence for a moment, “Oh yeah!”  Aragorn began, “I was gunna ask you a favour.”

“Really? Because you asked for a favour last night, and I did that too. So what is it this time.” She rolled her eyes at the mirror,

“Well…” he sounded sufficiently embarrassed, she smiled, “I was just thinking,” she smirked, “since I love you and everything…could you uhm…get someone out of detention for me…’cause like, you’re pretty and stuff.”

She rolled her eyes again, drop dead gorgeous was what she aimed for.

“So uh…can you?”

“Who, sweetie?”

“Who what…”

“Who do you want me to get out of detention?”

“Ohhhh…” he laughed nervously, “you know that kid who got in trouble this morning.”

She glared at the mirror, “The short homeless man, sweetie? The nerd.”

“He’s got a name, babe.”

“I’m sure he’s got a name, but that hardly matters, does it?”

“So you’ll do it?”

“I don’t know, sweetie? What’s in it for me?”

“Me, I guess.”

She rolled her eyes once more and sighed, “I guess you’ll have to do. Text me the deets, sweetie.” She ended the call, slipping the phone into her bra before touching up her lipstick.

…

Ten minutes later, Arwen walked up to where Aragorn and his friends were sat on the oval, throwing a football at each other enthusiastically. Frodo slouched behind her, face pale. She waved Aragorn over, garnering appreciative looks from his circle of friends.

“Is this what you wanted me to get, sweetie?” she asked, pushing Frodo towards Aragorn with a finger, wiping the same finger on her skirt as if she had touched something nasty.

“Yeah!” Aragorn grinned, “Thanks babe.”

She smirked and Aragorn clapped Frodo on the shoulder, making him stumble forward.

“See you tonight sweetie!” she blew him a quick kiss and walked away to a chorus of yells from Aragorn’s friends, hips swinging.

“The patriarchy…” Frodo mumbled, “it’s everywhere…”

“What was that?” asked Aragorn, staring at Arwen’s arse as she walked away,

“Nothing…nothing…”

…

Legolas and Gimli had watched the whole exchange from the other side of the oval. They watched Arwen walk away, they watched Aragorn walk away with Frodo and they watched Aragorn come back.

Legolas, stretched out elegantly across the grass, rested his head on his hands and sighed.

“Oh Gimli,”

“Yeah…”

“I was just thinking --”

“He’s coming over here.”

Legolas immediately sat up straight and adjusted his hair, glare in place.

“Hey guys.” Aragorn grinned down at them,

“What now?” Legolas snapped,

“I was just thinking…” Legolas grimaced,

“I’m sure you were.”

Aragorn wasn’t at all affronted, “Wanna sit with us?”

“Why would I want to do that?” his eyes were cold,

“Well I dunno, you just looked a lonely over here, that’s all…”

“Lonely. Well I see. Is this the first time, you’ve been able to understand that? That I might be lonely,” he pursed his lips, “without you?”

“Uh…I…” Aragorn scratched his head, “without me?”

“Well I just thought you didn’t care…seeing as you seemed perfectly fine with leaving me for…well her.” Legolas flicked his lime green scarf over his shoulder and glared,

Gimli finally spoke up, head still facing down, “Just get lost, okay? He doesn’t want you here.”

Aragorn looked slightly uncomfortable, “I was just --” he broke off, looking up, trying to find the right words, “sorry? I was just trying to--” he bit his lip and clenched his fists at his sides, “nevermind. Sorry.” He turned away, looking hurt and walked back toward his friends.

Legolas flicked his hair over his shoulder and stared out across the oval, “You see that Gimli? That’s what someone looks like when they’re put into their place.” He threw back his head, smirking triumphantly.

“Um, Legolas?” Gimli began slowly.

“Yes Gimli? What is it?”

“You know, he looks really upset. You didn’t need to be that harsh. You were out of line.” He looked Legolas in the eye, who looked away.

“Well it seems our opinions differ on that front.” Legolas spat coldly,

“Yeah, seems that they do.” Gimli grumbled, “Look, he’s trying to be your friend…” Gimli began, his eyes fixed on Legolas who didn’t return his gaze, “You’ve gotta get over him sometime right? Why not now?”

Legolas stared at the grass, jaw clenched. When he spoke his voice was soft and low, “I don’t think I know how to get over him.”

His eyes finally met Gimli’s, watery pools of blue. He looked incredibly lost and Gimli had no idea what to do.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out…” Gimli nodded, “Well…uh. I’ve got a Shop assignment to finish, so.” He shrugged and stood, turning away from Legolas and walking towards the school.

“Gimli wait!” Legolas called after him, standing, but Gimli didn’t look back.

…

Sam sat in the computer lab, an egg salad sandwich in hand, and sighed over Frodo’s incessant babble.

“And you know what Sam?” Frodo was saying, “I looked too. I looked with the rest of them. I’m the problem, Sam. We’re the problem.”

Sam sighed again as Frodo continued.

“I objectified Arwen Undomiel just like the rest of them. I’m a sexist, misogynistic pig, filled to to the brim with male privilege. The Witch King was right, she opened my eyes, Sam. We’re the problem Sam, you and I.”

Sam shuffled uncomfortably, “Well I don’t much look at women, Frodo.” He said seriously, but Frodo just continued over him,

“I might as well just put on my Fedora and walk out of here right now and make out with some unsuspecting girl, maybe even have sex with her! You know what? It doesn’t matter, I don’t even need to ask her name, because she’s an object Sam, just like rest.” He heaved a frustrated sigh before continuing, “And you know what the worse thing is, Sam? We don’t even realise it. You don’t even realise! And we do it every day Sam, and you know what, they -- women -- deserve our utmost respect!” He was out of breath after his speech, staring at Sam, his lunch forgotten on the floor,

“Frodo,” Sam began, twisting his sandwich in his hands, “I don’t objectify women, because I don’t like women.”

Silence greeted his words.

…

They walked to English in silence, not quite daring to look the other in the eye. They took seats next to each other and waited for class to begin.

Finally, ten minutes late, a tall blond swept serenely into the room. She flicked her curly hair over her shoulder and fixed the room with her sharp, blue gaze for a moment before turning to the board.’

In large print across the centre she wrote GALADRIEL.

“Shouldn’t we call ya miss?” Pippin called across the room, smirking at Merry,

“No, Mr Took, Galadriel will do.” She smiled at him radiantly and he looked taken aback at the thought of the sub knowing who he was.

She smiled again as a short, fat man stumbled into the room, struggling under piles of paper, “Lady of Light, where would you like these?” she glared at him and stepped closer, speaking in a heated whisper,

“You can’t call me that in public, Nigel.”

The man scrubbed his red hair nervously, “As you wish, Lady of the Wood.”

“Nigel. Silence.” She gritted, then turned back to the class with another radiant smile.

“Could you please open your books to page sixty-nine,” she began but was immediately cut by a chorus of giggles, “What is it then?” she asked, lips tight,

“Well, Lady of Light,” Merry began, “do you really have to ask?”

She gave him a glare that could have cut glass.

Frodo stared listlessly ahead, feeling sorry for Nigel who was now struggling to organise the papers on the teacher’s desk., muttering smashing sarcastically under his breath every time he dropped a piece of paper.

Galadriel was talking again and Frodo couldn’t help but listen. She was so beautiful, he could almost forget about The Witch King’s lecture, almost. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t objectify her. Frodo looked on in horror as Pippin nudged Merry and winked, “Hey, Lady of the Wood? Could you come and help me with this?” he pointed towards the pile of paper on his lap, “My essay’s getting pretty long, and you could say it’s kinda…hard. You know how essays get.”

She ignored him and continued to direct poor Nigel in his paper organising.

Frodo thought about the photograph and what it entailed. He’d been thinking about it for a long time. The thoughts weighed on his mind like lead, bringing him no closer to a conclusion. Frodo didn’t think anything would change, not now and not ever. There would be no great friendship formed between nerds and jocks, and there would be nothing to fall back on, Boromir’s actions were proof of that. All Frodo could think about was why? Why was he doing this for a group of people who didn’t give half a shit about where he would end up. Why not publish the photograph, why not give them what they deserved?

Because he was scared as shit.

Because he couldn’t man up and give them what they deserved for once, and that’s how it always would be. His eyes caught Galadriel’s across the room and she smiled. Frodo made his decision.

…

After class Frodo hung back, waving away a concerned Sam, “I’ll just be a minute.” Sam nodded and walked out of the room, his face still concerned, his movements awkward.

Galadriel was making Nigel pack her things, “Great lesson, wasn’t it Nigel?” she smiled as the small man tried in vain to keep a hold on all of her possessions,

“Yes, Lady of Light, smashing.” She smiled again and ushered him from the room, she turned to Frodo,

“Mr Baggins, I thought you would come.”

Frodo nodded and sat, “I…I need some help.”

“Not with English I presume.”

“No.”

“The burden placed upon you is great,” she nodded gravely, “but I trust you have the strength to bear it.”

“Well, about that…” Frodo grimaced, holding out the photograph he had taken from his pocket, “Maybe I can’t do it.”

She didn’t even glance at the photograph, staring him straight in the eye, “The burden is, however, yours to bear.”

Frodo continued to hold the photograph towards her, “It doesn’t have to be.”

She shook her head and sighed, “No, Frodo.”

“Why?”

“I would be corrupted by its power.”

“What power!” Frodo exclaimed, “It’s a picture, a photograph, an inanimate object. It doesn’t hold power it --”

“It holds wishes.” Galadriel’s voice was grim, her face drawn,

“What wishes? It’s a photograph.” Frodo said incredulously, the sub was becoming increasingly strange,

“Your wishes Frodo, the school’s wishes. It can be whatever you want it be, if you know how to use it.”

“I don’t want to use it!” he began, irritation welling in his chest, “I want to destroy it.”

“And that, Frodo, is why you are burdened with this task.” Frodo had no idea what was going on, “You’re a strong one, Frodo, and you deserve your victory. So I will give you this.” She rummaged in the pocket of her capris, “For you I have prepared this.” She pulled a small piece of torn lilac paper from her pockets, she handed it to Frodo.

On the piece paper in comic sans were four letters: L - I - M - E

Frodo looked up at Galadriel, “Seriously? What is this gunna do?”

“It’s the code, Frodo, for the staff computer lab, I trust you will use it wisely, for it contains your wishes.”

Frodo sighed and stared at the paper, “And what do you wish?” he said at last,

“That what should be shall be.” She answered, turning towards the blackboard, “And by the way, do give my kindest regards to Legolas Greenleaf.”

…

Frodo walked out into the corridor, almost bumping into the janitor, who was standing outside the door, suspiciously still. Frodo, in no mood for a creepy stalker, brushed past him, “Get lost, Gollum.” He muttered,

The janitor smirked and stared at the photograph in Frodo’s hands, “Does it contain your wishes, Mr Baggins?”

Frodo stopped in his tracks and looked up, locking eyes with Gollum, the janitor hunched behind his cart. The bell rang to mark the beginning of the next class. Frodo ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello yes me again, hope you enjoyed the chapter and appreciated Nigel Thornberry's cameo.


	5. Boromir's Betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUCKING LAST CHAPTER OF BOOK ONE AM I RIGHT???? i am right, i am always right. so, have fun reading this, give us some feedback and inform us of spelling errors. this chapter is heavy for us. i fucking wish you luck.

“Gollum knows.” It was the next morning and they were getting ready for the first class of the day.

“What, the janitor?” Sam turned around, pants half pulled up and raised his eyebrows at Frodo, who promptly looked down at his bitten fingernails. “Oh, uh, sorry.” muttered Sam, quickly facing the wall and pulling up his trousers.

They hadn’t talked about Sam’s confession, and the unspoken words hung in the air.

“Oh, uhm, yeah. The janitor.” Frodo adjusted his tie awkwardly, still staring downwards.

“He’s a little bit, er, _creepy_ , you know what I mean?” the air in the room seemed to thicken at the words. After a tense minute, Frodo broke the silence,

“Tell Merry and Pippin, would you? And ask them to tell the others. See you in physics.”

Sam stood, staring after him, running a hand over his stomach self consciously. He probably shouldn’t have said anything.

He never should have said anything.  

…

Sam intended to find Merry and Pippin first, but ran into Boromir in the locker room after first period: compulsory PE. Sam had just stepped out of the shower, hair dripping, a towel wrapped under his shoulders. He walked along the wet tiles, pulling the towel even tighter around him, eyes kept resolutely to the floor. The next moment, his face collided with someone’s back. Sam was flustered, it was exactly this that kept his eyes fixated on the floor, but it was right there, miles of corded muscle under bronzed skin. He grimaced, willing his blush to fade, but too late, the someone turned around and Sam couldn’t stop looking.

An amused cough sounded from somewhere above Sam’s head.

“Hey Sam,” Boromir’s voice cut through his thoughts, “my eyes are up here.”

Oh God. Sam raised his eyes slowly, expecting the worst, but Boromir was smiling and Sam’s mortification lessened slightly.

“Oh, hi Boromir.” Sam’s blush deepened and he shuffled his feet slightly, trying not to stare.

Boromir turned away from Sam and opened his gym locker, shoving his shirt in before pulling down his trousers.

Sam’s eyes travelled down Boromir’s length and he gulped before looking away, “So Boromir.”

“Hmmm?” Boromir hummed, stretching his arms above his head and grinning down at Sam,

Sam shook his head, clearing it, internally scolding himself. It was _Boromir_ for God’s sake, “We can’t meet in school right now,” Boromir absent-mindedly pulled his boxer briefs forward and looked down, as if to check if it was still there. Sam cursed his luck, and gulped again, “because Gollum, the janitor, knows.”

Boromir raised his eyebrows and donned his gear, “Ah really, always thought that guy was a bit of a creep.”

Sam suddenly grinned, “I know right!”

…

Boromir walked down the corridor after training, alone. He looked up ahead on hearing a loud burst of laughter and saw Aragorn walking with a crowd of people, mostly girls.

“Hey did you hear about that pass I made at the last game?”

Boromir sighed and turned the other way, as laughter and cheers erupted around Aragorn.

He knew why he was walking alone. It wasn’t really as uncommon as people would think. Aragorn was the popular one, the one that drew people to him, like moths to a flame. He was literally a beacon, Boromir could admit it was annoying. He could also admit he wanted it. He wanted it badly.

It wasn’t that Boromir didn’t have friends, it was that he only had friends by association. It didn’t matter what Aragorn did, didn’t matter that he was the captain of the football team, or that he actually had half a brain, he would always pale in comparison to the star quarterback. Apparently none of it mattered.

Boromir had everything. Correction, Boromir had almost everything. He didn’t have what he really wanted.

But Frodo did…or he had the means anyway.

He had the photograph and all he wanted to do was destroy it. Boromir knew that if he had come across the photograph things would be different. First of all, he wouldn’t have told anyone. He would have told everyone.

Maybe not at first, not straight away. But Aragorn would have done something because Aragorn always did something and Boromir would have told by now.

He couldn’t understand Frodo at all, to have the photograph right there in his hands and to do _nothing_ , nothing at all except be noble and loyal and try to destroy it? That was ridiculous. Boromir thought of what it could bring him, who he could be…

And it wouldn’t really be selling out Aragorn, would it? Aragorn was what he was, who cared if everyone knew…

Shame spiked hot through him but he shrugged it off as best he could.

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of laughter and a flushing toilet. He looked up to see he was standing outside the boy’s bathroom and the next second was almost run down by a jubilant Merry and Pippin.

When they noticed him, they jumped a little, grinning and shoving an empty bag of flour quickly into Merry’s pocket.

“I wouldn’t go in there for a coupla days if I were you, aye captain.” Pippin winked at Boromir and elbowed him in the ribs, harder than was really necessary,

“Yeah got some…plumbing issues.” Merry grinned and they both burst simultaneously into laughter.

Boromir sighed and waited for it to stop, he was waiting a while. Finally they stopped and Boromir coughed to get their attention.

“We’re meeting in the park across the road at lunch, the janitor’s caught on.”

Merry and Pippin grinned, “All the more reason to meet inside school!” Pippin piped up, and Merry nodded enthusiastically, pulling a bag of lime flavoured chips from his pocket.

Boromir wasn’t sure how to react, “Look, if you see someone, tell them.”

“Sure we will, captain!” Merry waved dismissively and they flounced down the corridor, flour trailing after them.

…

Legolas and Gimli were sitting alone at recess, so naturally Merry and Pippin deemed it necessary to approach them.

“Hi!” Pippin proclaimed, sliding into the lime green seat next to Legolas.

Legolas looked the other way and pretended he didn’t exist.

Gimli smiled tightly at the duo as Merry swung into the seat next to Pippin, leisurely placing his legs onto the table and crossing his feet. Legolas sighed, wrinkled his nose, and moved his food away, disgusted.

“What do you want?” Legolas snapped, pushing the food on his plate around in agitation,

“Calm down there, Mr Greenleaf.” Merry smirked, “We just wanna tell you that we’re all meeting in the park across from the school at lunch. You know,” he winked, “the whole Photograph Destruction squad.”

Pippin wiggled his eyebrows, “And you know, only Aragorn doesn’t know yet.”

“We know how much you love _spending time_ with him.” Merry chimed in,

“So we thought you could tell him!” Pippin finished.

Merry took his feet off the table and helped Pippin up. The two of them, grins plastered across their faces backed away wiggling their fingers.

As they turned, they caught sight of Frodo approaching and raised their hands as if to high five him. As he brought his hands up, confused, they grinned, dropped their hands, and as Frodo walked by, slapped him on the arse.

Frodo as grimaced as he walked up to the table.

Gimli grunted in sympathy but Legolas remained icy, “What is it now?”

“I just wanted to pass on a message.” Frodo began,

“Well, out with it!”

“Galadriel sends her regards.”

All of a sudden, Legolas looked very agitated, “Of course she does.” He flicked his lime green scarf over his shoulder, “My Father _will_  be hearing about this.”  


Frodo raised his eyebrows in disbelief and recited quadratic formula in his head, anything to cope.

“Well,” Legolas pursed his lips, “you tell Galadriel --”

Frodo held up his hand and heaved a long suffering sigh, “I’m not telling her anything.”

…

Apparently Shop assignments meant that helping your friends in crisis wasn’t an option. Legolas huffed an irritated sigh as he strode down the corridor towards Community and Family Studies, the class which Aragorn was currently in.

He opened the door without knocking, “I’m looking for the quarterback.”

The small female teacher stared at him for seconds before responding, Legolas supposed she was surprised that someone of his calibre would ever set foot in her classroom. He was just as surprised as she was.

“Uh yes...he’s here. Aragorn, someone’s looking for you.” Legolas looked into the classroom to see Aragorn with his head on the desk, apparently asleep, “Aragorn!” the teacher nudged him and he stirred, “Arwen, would you please wake him up?”

Arwen Undomiel smiled sweetly and and jabbed Aragorn with an acrylic nail, “Sweetie. Wake up. Now.”

Aragorn grunted and raised his head, “Wassa matter?”

“ _He’s_ here to see you.”

Aragorn grinned, “Hey Legolas!” he waved at Legolas, who was still standing at the door.

He stood and made his way across the room, high-fiving roughly six different people -- one of them being the teacher.

Once outside the room, Legolas pursed his lips, “Isn’t she a delight.” He commented dryly,

“Who, Arwen? I dunno why she doesn’t like you.” He shrugged,

“Well. It may be the same reason I don’t like her.”

But Aragorn wasn’t listening, he was eyeing up Boromir’s brother, who happened to be walking down the corridor. Legolas fumed, a few months ago, that had been him.

“Anyway,” he said perhaps a bit too loudly, “I’m just here to inform you that we’ll be meeting in the tacky park across from the school at lunch.”

“He’s a nice one,” Aragorn nudged Legolas, who flinched, “kind of reminds me of you, aye.”

Legolas gritted his teeth, “Well for his sake, I hope you don’t treat him like you treated me.”

…

Frodo skipped eating in the cafeteria and went straight to the park. He didn’t want people looking at him, and he didn’t know what to say to Sam about… _well_.

He sat at a table and shivered, drawing his blazer closer around himself. A lone figure walked towards him from the direction of the school. As he neared, Frodo recognised Boromir. Great. Just what he needed.

Boromir casually slipped into the seat opposite Frodo, taking out a sandwich and biting into it with aggression.

“Don’t wanna eat in the cafeteria, hey? I don’t blame you.”

Frodo shrugged, “I just wanted to be alone is all.”

Boromir’s eyebrows came together in confusion, “But why?”

“People aren’t that great,” he looked pointedly at Boromir, “are they, _captain_?”

“Look Frodo --”

“I don’t want to hear it, I don’t care. I’m going to destroy this photograph and you won’t even have to pretend to be sorry. You won’t have to strain yourself.”

“Give it to me.” the words were quiet and rushed, as if they’d just slipped out. Frodo’s hand immediately went to his pocket,

“Excuse me?” For a second, just a second, Boromir looked uncertain, as if he himself wasn’t sure what he was trying to suggest, but the second passed so quickly that Frodo wasn’t even sure he had seen it. Boromir drew himself high in his seat, squaring his shoulders and placing his sandwich calmly onto the table.

He cracked his knuckles nondescriptly, more a reflex than a threatening gesture, but nonetheless, to Frodo, his intention was clear. “Yeah,” he began, feigning thought, “give it to me.”

Frodo was all of a sudden, very aware of just how small he was. As he clutched the photograph in his pocket, the thought entered his mind that he could give it to Boromir. Frodo wouldn’t be better or worse off for it, hell, he might actually have time to find someone willing to go with him to the prom. He mentally shook himself, he had been trusted with this. Whatever doubts Elrond Undomiel, Gandalf or any of the others may have had, they still made him do it; him, of all people.

He met Boromir’s gaze with his own, “No.”

“What was that, nerd?” Boromir’s tone was still casual, so much so that it almost reminded Frodo of Aragorn, what didn’t remind him of Aragorn was the threatening edge to his voice.

Frodo felt panic bubbling in his chest, he cast his eyes around for something, anything that might save him.

Coming out of the school, he saw an unlikely group that could only be the rest of the Photograph Destruction Squad. He stood, hand still firmly in his pocket and fixed Boromir with a cold stare, “I’m going to leave,” he stated calmly, “you can explain.”

Boromir opened his mouth to retort, but caught sight of the squad before he could begin. He closed his mouth again and stared as Frodo began to walk away.

…

“So where’d Frodo go?” grinned Aragorn, “It'd be great to have the whole gang back together, like old times.”

Legolas scowled, “There is no gang, I would never be part of such a vulgar organisation.”

Aragorn just winked, “Vulgar didn’t bother you before,” he nudged an unresponsive Boromir, “Am I right?” He held his hand up for a high-five. Boromir stared at the sandwich on the table, and Pippin dove across everyone else in his eagerness to high-five Aragorn.

Legolas pursed his lips and sighed.

“So how ‘bout the game tomorrow? Remember my pass at the last one?” Aragorn looked around the table for approval.

“Aragorn,” Legolas began stiffly, “we were, in fact, all present, and you have regaled with the details every day since. The reruns during practise are quite traumatising. I think even coach Denethor is sick of it.”

“But coach loves me!” Aragorn grinned, “I’m his star scholarship player!”

Boromir, sitting next to him, flinched, his hands slowly curling into fists, “Of _course_ you are.” He muttered under his breath.

Aragorn didn’t seem to hear, “Got enough lime chips?” he asked Merry and Pippin, who, at that exact moment had been in the process of attempting to plait Gimli’s hair.

Aragorn looked on with mild interest, a smile playing on his handsome features.

Gimli was trying to push the duo away, but in the process of getting them away from his almost shoulder-length hair, he elbowed Legolas, dislodging him from his seat. As Legolas began to fall, Aragorn’s reflexes kicked in and he reached for Legolas’ hand to steady him. Instead he was pulled from his own seat and landed in the grass on top of Legolas.

Aragorn grinned, “Now it really is like old times.”

A pretty blush spread across Legolas’ cheeks and he shifted uncomfortably underneath Aragorn, “Do you _mind_?”

“Not really,” Aragorn smirked, “and by the looks of things, you don’t either.”

Gimli gritted his teeth and rubbed his hand in agitation across his stubble, as Merry and Pippin giggled into their chips.

Silence descended over the group as Aragorn continued to smirk suggestively, subtly rotating his hips. Legolas looked incredibly uncomfortable, but oddly happy with his position.

It was Boromir who broke the silence, “I tried to take it from Frodo.” He looked up at the group,

Sam, for the first time, raised his head from his calculus notes and stared at Boromir, “Now why would you do that.”

Aragorn propped himself up on Legolas’ chest, “Take what from him?”

“The photograph, you moron.” Gimli stared at the quarterback coldly.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes at Gimli before turning on Boromir. He kept eye contact while he stood, leaving Legolas on the ground, slightly dazed, propped on his elbows, legs fallen open, Gimli shooting him surreptitious glances out of the corner of his eye.

Aragorn was standing now, arms crossed over his chest, staring down at Boromir, “We told them they could trust us.”

Boromir gritted his teeth, “We never said that.”

“You don’t have to say it, Boromir. They’re our friends. Friends trust each other. Can I trust you?” he stepped closer to Boromir, looking down at him, “Why would you want it anyway, what would you want with it?”

“Nothing.” Boromir couldn’t even meet Aragorn’s gaze,

“Nothing. Even I’m not that stupid.”  His voice cracked as he said the last word, and he finally looked away.

“Hey fairy!” Aragorn turned, gaze cold, “Yeah I’m talkin’ to you, big boy.” The voice was that of a heavily built six foot four boy, wearing the blood orange and black uniform of Mordor Boys High, Eriador High’s opposing school.

“Fuck off, Uruk,” Aragorn gritted, “I told you not to call me that.”

“Since when do I take orders from fairies?” the group of boys behind him laughed uproariously,

“Call him that again and you’ll have more than orders to be dealing with.” Gimli was the one who spoke, standing behind Aragorn and glaring at the kids from Mordor.

“Can you control your new boy toy, Aragorn? You know they’re only good for one thing.” Uruk smirked, looking Gimli up and down.

Legolas stood so quickly that all the others saw was a blur of blond hair, his fist was drawn back before anyone had time to think about it and in the next second there was a sickening crack and Uruk lay on the ground, clutching his cheek and groaning.

There was a moment of silence and Legolas crossed his arms, looking down at Uruk, breathing heavily, “Don’t.”

Uruk held Legolas’ gaze as his mouth twisted into a smirk and he spat blood at Legolas’ feet.

It was carnage, Gimli went to punch Uruk but the Mordor football team got in the way and soon no one knew who was punching who, just that they were punching someone.

Boromir was still sitting at the table, staring down at it, and Sam, in turn was staring at Boromir in shock. Finally, Sam seemed to snap out of it and he stood, gathering his calculus, “I have to go find Frodo,” he turned back towards the school, “someone’s got to clean up the mess you made.”

“Sam, I --”

“I don’t care Boromir.”

Boromir watched Sam walk away. He shouldn’t have said anything.

Merry and Pippin had been watching the exchange and now stood, “C’mon Merry,” Pippin began, “let’s go kick some arse!” They ran towards the action, quickly disappearing amongst the bodies. Boromir looked up, horrified, and stood, running after the duo, punching anyone who got in his way.

…

Saruman sighed as he glared at the spotty, gangly boy at the checkout. “You mean this is really the only carton of budget milk you have? This is unacceptable.”

The boy, trying to contain his shaking looked from Saruman to the door, planning his escape, “I’m sorry sir,” he began, his voice breaking, “I work at the checkout, I don’t control these things. I could --”

“I didn’t come here to listen to your incessant babbling. For the inconvenience, you will give me this milk free of charge.”

“I’m sorry sir, but that goes against…” he trailed off. Saruman had already left.

Saruman walked leisurely across the park, breathing in the freedom of his lunch break, anything to escape the raucous students inside the walls of Eriador High. Ah, the peace, the beauty, the tranquility…

“BOROMIR!”

Saruman pursed his lips, it seemed there was no escape. Walking purposefully toward the noise, he prepared himself for the worst. When he reached the source, he was glad he had prepared himself.

It was the quarterback who had yelled, in that infuriating way of his, but it was the captain who looked to be attempting murder.

“Dear Lord, boy…” Saruman walked through the fray towards Boromir, who was fighting to get to the short trouble-makers. The rest of the students of Eriador High had stilled but Boromir was lobbing punches left and right, “Would you desist in your maiming?”

Boromir paid no attention. Saruman gritted his teeth, readying himself for the inelegance of his next gesture. He hit Boromir promptly over the head with the budget milk, “Cease! Cease!”

Boromir seemed to come back to himself, his fist still clenched in the shirt of Mordor student.

“Let that boy go immediately, Boromir, son of Denethor. You know the penalty for attempted murder.”

“I wasn’t murdering anyone sir…” Boromir trailed off,

“I don’t want to hear it,” Saruman snapped, “this will do terrible thing to the budget.” He snapped his fingers and beckoned Boromir, “Principal Sauron’s office, now.”

…

Aragorn stared frantically around at the groaning bodies. He spotted Gimli and Legolas a few metres away, Legolas touching Gimli’s arm.

“Are you positive it’s okay?” Legolas was asking, Gimli shrugged.

Aragorn made his way towards them, searching the park for Merry and Pippin. As he reached Legolas and Gimli, Aragorn spotted the duo. They were being dragged by the backs of their shirts by Uruk, who shot Aragorn a grin.

“See you at the game, big boy.”

Aragorn clenched his teeth, “We need to go after them.”

…

Boromir sat outside Sauron’s office and listened to the heated conversation going on inside.

“We can’t expel him,” hissed Sauron, “what will that do to the budget? He’s team captain, Saruman, in case you needed reminding.”

“Well…” Saruman began, “He’s got a brother.”

There was silence for a second on the other side of the door.

“I like the way you think, Saruman,” Boromir could almost feel the smirk on the face he’d never seen, “that puts your Christmas bonus to five cents.”

Boromir raised his eyebrows, he wasn’t sure what was going on.

“So we bring in his brother then? As captain?”

“Whatever you say Saruman, as long as it’s cheap and doable.”

Boromir’s heart sank. Expelled. He never thought it would come to this, not for a photograph, not for anything. What was his father going say, and more importantly, what was going to happen to Faramir? His brother could play, there was no doubt about that. But when he chose the photography club over football, well…he didn’t eat at the dinner table anymore, not when their father was home anyway.

Boromir knew he’d fucked up, and there was nothing he could do about it.

…

“Frodo!” Sam banged on the door to their dorm, “Frodo, I know you’re in there, open up.”

“Go away, Sam…” Frodo sounded as if he was sitting against the door, the words were soft and close, Sam hit the door again.

“Come on, open the door!”

“I’m going to destroy the photograph by myself, Sam, and then I’m going to leave. There’s something wrong with this place.”

Sam clenched his fists, “I’m your best friend, Frodo. Don’t I matter?”

The was a quiet sigh, “Of course you do, Sam. It’s just --”

“You don’t trust me?”

“Of course I do…”

“Then open the door.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first chap of book two will be out in a few weeks lol


End file.
